Commentary of issues and sanctuary life

December 09, 2005

A White Quiet

Its quiet. A white quiet. A stillness shaped by a windless half-moon night and the snow fog that slowly settles down on our mile high valley. Its 10pm and I am walking the dogs as I prepare the waterlines for a night of sharp cold. All I hear as I walk is the crunch of my boots in the snow that blankets the ground and the muffled sound of my breathing against the inside of my parka.

The stillness around me is absorbing. I stop in the middle of the dirt road, turn off my flashlight and listen. There is no noise. Nothing. No wind. No far off howls of hunting coyotes. No night birds or sounds of horses on the range. It is completely silent except for the sound of my beating heart.

It is not often that one can enter a space so devoid of noise. For most of us some level of sound is always there. Even in the twilight of sleep there is a far off dog barking, an early morning garbage collection, the faint clicking of changing lights at an intersection, the muffled sound of motors and wheels on pavement on some unseen freeway, a nocturnal cat padding across a rooftop or the deep dream-filled breathing next to us or down the hall. Wave after wave of sound laps against our ear drums. An endless ocean of sonant matter.

Before coming to this North East corner of California noise was a given. I never knew the profound importance of silence. How the silence allows the brain, indeed, the soul, to sift and separate the many things learned and experienced each day, pondering its travels, mixing, measuring, distilling everything down to a third element, revelation. And with revelation one can then journey with wisdom and some level of grace.

The busy, chaotic, technical world we have created for ourselves makes it hard to get to this third element. There are just too few places where we can experience true silence. We cannot pause during the day and let the quiet roll over us. There is no natural quiet.

I stand in the cold, listening to the silence, letting it settle over me like the snow fog has settled over our valley until the dogs find me again. Their happy whines and friendly sparring brings me back to the world of sound. I walk back to the house. My boots and breathing keeping me company with their regular cadence against a background of white.

An article in the L.A. Times (8/27/08) lead me to your web site and your blog. What a jewel! All the postings date from 2005... Please write more if and when you find the time. I can imagine how busy you are...but your writings reached my soul and I yearn for more.

We too have escaped the rat race and, on occasion here in Spalding, the power goes out during the winter, I stop my Grandfather clock and experience the wonder of pure silence. More valuable than all the gold and riches in the world...